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“Just wait until you’re pregnant,” said Aiden. “And he puts you on a strictly-controlled diet.”
I looked up at him in alarm. He and Connor both nodded.
“What?”
“He’s got a chart in his office, all laid out,” said Connor. “Right down to the last fucken calorie.”
“Dates and times you’re supposed to be eating, too,” added Aiden. “And I think there’s a… what was it? A timer?”
He glanced to his friend, who nodded. “A buzzer, really,” he said, suppressing a grin. “It goes around your pretty little neck. It shocks you if you go off schedule, and—”
I grabbed a pillow from beside me and threw it at him. He ducked nimbly, as the two of them broke out laughing.
“You should’ve seen your face!” Aiden snorted. “Halfway through, you were like—”
“Hey.”
The word was barked into the room from the opposite hallway. The laughter stopped, and we all turned to face Elliot.
“Sorry,” said Connor, still smiling. “We’ll keep it down for…”
His words trailed off as we all realized something was wrong. Elliot wasn’t angry; if anything he looked distraught. His shirt was pulled open, and the knot in his tie had been roughly pulled out. Both ends of the wrinkled silk dangled unevenly.
But it was his uneasy expression that said everything else.
“House meeting,” Elliot declared abruptly. “Now.”
The others glanced to each other for a moment, then rose together. As Elliot spun back in the direction of his office, they followed.
“You also, Jordyn,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re part of the house too.”
Seventeen
JORDYN
Of the three offices at the other end of the house, Elliot’s was probably the least impressive. That’s because it was clean and sterile and utilitarian. His immaculate desk was flanked by two guest chairs that faced it, but there were otherwise no accolades or photos or artwork hanging from the pale grey walls. Aside from a small table and a healthy-looking green plant that looked totally out of place, that was about it.
Therewasa brown suede couch though; a plush sectional that formed an ‘L’ in one corner. The guys slid into it with the practice of already knowing their spots, and I followed Elliot’s arm as he motioned me beside them.
“I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,” he said, getting straight to the point. “I just got off the phone—”
“It’s Sherri, isn’t it?”
Aiden had apparently read his friend well. Elliot nodded gravely.
“She alright?” asked Connor, his face drawn with concern.
“She’s perfectly fine,” Elliot replied. He paused in a rare display of not knowing the right words before continuing. “But her father isn’t.”
The guys went silent, all at once. A familiar sinking feeling stole over me as I lowered my head.
“He’s sick, and I’m afraid it’s not good,” said Elliot. “The oncologists haven’t given up hope yet, but he’s headed back down that dark road. Doctors are working on him now. He might be in the ICU a while.”
Aiden shifted uncomfortably, while Connor was fidgeting with his hands. I’d seen the signs before. They were different for everyone.
“Obviously, we’re going to miss the extraction window,” Elliot went on. “Sherri broke down crying for us, but I told her we’d have none of it. I ordered her to stop the FSH meds and injections immediately. Her father’s health comes beforeanythingelse.”
“Of course it does,” swore Aiden. Then, more quietly, “Damn.”
